Elysia has started singing "despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage"

This morning after the trash truck came she ran in very upset, "Mommy, somebody did something to our trash!!" we should all be so concerned about what happens to our trash.

She's still sort of wigging out over it.Emily has turned into a massive crybaby. I'm hoping to see teeth soon. I dream about them at night in the few moments that she allows me to sleep.My cousin's baby was born on my birthday

1. Funniest name to say2. Best group song and dance routine ever3. Tastiest cheese4. Entertainer who most needs to be shot. [I'm hoping that the winner of this award actually gets shot. It should have a special name , like an Executie]5. Fictional character who would make the coolest best friend6. Most annoying internet acronym7. Best Butt shot in a movie [I feel that this category is immature]8. Worst reality t.v. program [I realise the difficulty of choosing]9. Best supporting ingredient in a candy bar10.Word that is the most irritating to hear other people mis-pronounce.11. Worst fashion trend ever12 Best category in a fake awards ceremony

Now I'm going to add a few. Feel free to do the same.

13 Most innapproriate score [music that doesn't go with the film. at all.14. Best use of profanity in a feature film15. actress who is considered hot for some reason but who has no sex appeal16. Most underrated actor17. Best comedy that was not supposed to be a comedy.

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Well, Christmas has come and gone and left things pretty much the way they were before, except everyone's a little tireder, and now we don't have Old Saint Nick to blame for all our troubles anymore, he's flown back up to the north pole and we won't be seeing him again until next year. I never feel further away from Jesus than on Christmas when I know so many people with some pretty good sized problems and all I have to offer them is some lame gift and maybe a drink or two. Oh, well, we can't all do loaves and fishes, and experience has led me to believe that turning water into wine is probably not a good idea, at least most of the time.

We did have an awesome Christmas, with lots of friends and family dropping in to help make the day more fun, which it was. Especially pleased that Laurel and Savhanna made time for us, despite a full schedule of family Christmasses they had to attend. I think poor Savhanna may have eaten an entire plate of bacon before anyone noticed. I hope she wasn't too sick. Laurel was also awesome enough to get me some pants, so I can now go out in public again, having something to wear besides my XXL pregnancy p.j.s I thank her, and the world also thanks her. Kathy gave me the creme brulee tools, so we'll have to make creme brulee sometime soon. Not too soon, though. The other stand-out gifts were the handmade blankets we recieved from Kathy Bremmer, Ruby and Vicky Harrison, and my Mom got me a little teapot, which I'm really digging on.

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I've sort of avoided celebrating Christmas for the last 10 years. Not completely, my door has usually been open to friends in honest need, and I've been known to give gifts of things laying around the house to people who pop in, but still, I haven't really been celebrating Christmas.

My Mother-in-law has fought me over this since she's known me. She says that Christmas is the most important day of the year for her. I've always maintained that Christmas is for other people. This year my daughter is three and I've given up on doing anything really spiritual for Christmas. It'll be the same day of overindulgence and, well, really everything that's not spiritual that it always was when I was a kid. And I remember wishing that Christmas was more. I never felt the spirit of Christmas one reads about in books or sees in movies. All I see is excess and waste.

I was reading my friend Laurel's post about how she's struggling with Christmas this year, and it reminded me of how I feel about it every year, and how I'm trying to adjust those feelings in order to get along with Kathy, and not to disappoint Nathan. Here's my list, for the record. Here goes:

Christmas is my Mother's birthday. When I was growing up she used to tell me about how sad it was for her celebrating Christmas at her grandparents house. She had very stately victorian grandparents, so the grown=ups worked all day getting Christmas ready and she was expected to play quielly all aloneby herself all day. On Christmas. Her birthday. On Christmas I always feel sorry for my Mom. Her parents were weird, and she has lots of sad only child stories like that.

My first mother-in-law, like my second, loved Christmas. Her name was Becky. She was always very kind to me, despite my often rude and bizarre behavior. Three months before she passed away after a long battle with cancer, Jeffrey and I spent Christmas at her house. That Christmas eve we looked at her photo albums . I got to see little Jeffrey. I remember her best friend coming over with these incredibly expensive gifts for my sisters-in-law. I remember that she seemed embarrassed, like she had been out gifted, as if it was a competition to see who could give the most expensive Christmas gifts, and she had lost. And I was pissed. Because maybe she had been to tired with a full time teaching schedule and chemo, and never letting on that anything was wrong to get the most expensive gifts, and I was pissed that she would feel embarrassed about something so stupid, as if Jesus would have wanted anything to do with a gifting competition. I really didn't know Becky well, and I probably got it wrong, but I've never wanted much to do with Christmas presents since them. I mean, I like to give them to people who really need them, but that's really it, you know?

My Mom's best friend died on Christmas day. Of brain cancer. Her daughter, who is exactly my age, was nine.

My Uncle died on November 17th, but I didn't here about until...like a week before Christmas. That was the first time I had seen that part of my Family for years. In my family someone really has to die for us to celebrate the holidays.

This year my dad is chronically, but not dangerously ill, and my friend Laurel's mom, who love's Christmas, and throws out more Christmas love than anyone else I know, is very ill. And that super sucks.

I guess this time of year I'm just always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's always so hectic, and people get so emotional, I don't really get my hopes up, just try to get through it and hope nothing awful happens, and be prepared when it does. But this year, and for the next many years, I'll have to celebrate Christmas. So I'm taking Becky and Carolyn, and Kathy as my examples.Despite the fact that there's too many toys, too much junkfood, and that my daugher is more likely to associate the day with Elmo than baby Jesus, we're going to go ahead and celebrate the hell out of Christmas this year. Come one, come all, and boy, go ahead and bring that giant goose in the window. Besides, I'm pretty sure if I don't at least try to do Christmas my mother-in-law is going to kill me. and then my stupid family will have to get together, and I don't think I can bear it. Not so soon after the Holidays.

Oh, we cut out Christmas cookies with our friends, It was fun. Hah! Take that Christmas!

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So my house looks like Father Christmas partied to hardy and exploded, splattering himself all over the walls of my new [to me] living room. My three year old is trying to see how many off my Mother-in-law's special Christmas ornaments she can break in one morning. I've already had to talk on behalf of my increasingly deaf and hypochondrial father to a nurse and a cardiologist, and there are 10 very nice hispanic men and one very rich white man in my back yard trimming my enormous mulberry tree. This staying home gig is starting to feel like a real job.

My consolation prize is that my friend, Laurel is just as harried as I am, except her Mom's illness is [probably] a lot more serious, and she has school to contend with instead of all day with two little kids, her kids at school part of the time. So I have company.

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So,my Dad and Emily have developed a very close relationship. He's sitting in the kitchen bouncing to her and humming because she's a little fussy.I glare at him."What" He says, "I only know three songs."O.K., one is the Addams family theme song. That's moderatly acceptable, even cool in a weird way. The second is The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out..."The other song is a remarkably offensive little ditty which I suspect is a drinking song that I know the words to for the same reason that I suspect Emily will:My name is Pancho.I live on a rancho.I earn two dollars a day.I go see Lucy.She gives me some pussy.She takes my two dollars away.

If one of my daughter's first words is pussy...well, that would be funny too, I guess I object to the racism more than the...whatever that is. I can't teach my father any new songs because he's functionally deaf. And stubborn.Oh well, I just had to save that moment for Emily, If I spend another minute in front of this computer my husband will likely kill me.

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I had my first really great day at the park since we moved and Emily was born. I used to go to the park near my old apartment daily, and I knew almost everyone who went there and could spend just hours hanging around talking to the other moms. I met all sorts of hollywood people there, like the guy who did the masks and stuff for Star Trek [His little girl is about 2 years older than Elysia]. Lots of people in production, writing, acting. The only problem with that park was that sometimes I felt like the only chubby mommy in Burbank.

At my new park the universe seems to have put on about 50 pounds, which makes me seem less abnormal. Nobody shows up until about 1-2 o'clock though, which is weird for me because I used to go first thing. Then I had Emily, which made me self conscious because I don't like breast feeding in public. I do it, dammit, because it's my right, but I've been taught from a young age not to whip my boobs out in public, and having them squirt milk everywhere doesn't make the re-conditioning any easier. I don't seem to be able to feed my daughter without drenching both of us. I understand that some women have trouble producing enough milk.

Not me.

Today It all finally clicked, however. I ran into a nanny who I know from story time. Her name's Heidi, she's Senegalese [and gorgeous], so I chatted with her. Then Elysia got someone elses mommy to swing her while I was feeding Emily, who I then stuffed into the front carrier to hide any leakage, which was, in fact minimal for a change, and the lady she "picked" turned out to be super nice and I chatted with her for about 30 minutes, and told her about story time. I try and recruit all the mommies I like to story time. So maybe my new park will be the refuge my old one was soon enough, and I'll know every Mommy on this end of Burbank too.

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Well, Thanksgiving is over and once again I'm thrilled to have all the dishes washed and most of the leftovers sitting quietly in the fridge.

My mother-in-law is already harrassing us about Christmas. I'm not sure why. I think she's bought my oldest daughter three Christmas outfits. She's dropping one off tomorrow so I can dress her in it on Thursday for some Christmas party. I really don't get it, but whatever.

Tonight there's a once every four years conjunction of Venus, Jupiter, and the moon. All I have to show for it is a killer headache. It looks beautiful up in the sky, though. Elysia yold me her first story today, and I wrote it down and illustrated it. We're going to read it for bedtime, which I feel should be soon, despite the fact that it's only 6:30

The Lakers are playing.Emily was very cranky for part of the day, which she usually isn'tElysia is shooting me with a toy nail gun. I think I have to go fight back.

Peace on EarthGoodwill towards allThankfull and full The large and the small